


Hidden Valley

by bobross



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jesus Sherlock Christ, M/M, Object Insertion, PWP, Sensory Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobross/pseuds/bobross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John is really rather magnificent in the late stages of arousal, Sherlock thinks, and he considers himself the best qualified to comment.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Valley

John is really rather magnificent in the late stages of arousal, Sherlock thinks, and he considers himself the best qualified to comment. For one thing, Sherlock has personally brought John to a state of completion sixty-three times over the space of two months, and has had ample opportunity to observe every facet of the process.

Laying aside his own talent and credentials (for the sake of objectivity) (ha!), however, Sherlock would defy anyone in the world to argue with the view currently splayed before him. John is bent low over the table, legs braced apart, locked and trembling. He's resting his brow on his fists, elbows sharply pointed outward—digging his knuckles into his eyes, most likely, hoping the discomfort will distract him.

"Jesus," he's muttering into the worn woodgrain, " _Jesus_ , Sherlock, Christ..."

"Horatio, isn't it usually?" Sherlock responds amiably, and never mind that his voice is far huskier than its wont. "Not that I'm not flattered."

"Shut up and—oh, _Jesusgodyes_..."

Sherlock gently tips the object of John's blasphemous praise back into a more neutral position, carefully rotating it through each slow, shallow glide forward. Truly, this is a sight worth committing to memory: the reddened ring of John's most private flesh is stretched, slick, a perfect seal and contrast for the dark green rind smoothly pumping past his resistance. He's almost too wet for any real friction, thighs and cleft and balls and cock drenched with warm, runny lube.

It's becoming an issue for Sherlock, as well. (Not in the sense that he is hard and throbbing, his erection strangled inside his trousers—fully dressed while John pants and begs on lurid display. No, he is willing to wait this out.) The abundance of lubricant renders John pliant and needy, softening the rough pleasure that might drive him to climax too quickly, but the cucumber has no convenient grips built in; Sherlock's fingers slip and slide in the mess, twitching the thick gourd in teasing circles without quite meaning to.

The result is a low, grating whine torn from John's throat. His hips shudder aft, greedily seeking more. His erection sways heavy between his legs, drooling and neglected. "Sherlock," he gasps breathily. "Sherlock, please, _please_ , Jesus, I need it."

Sherlock takes a moment to wipe his fingers on the rug. He clears his throat gently. "Not now, John. You'll come the instant I touch you, and I'm not ready for that yet."

The whispered oaths burning into the tabletop are enough to give Sherlock pause, and he grins, unseen; John's mouth is filthier than a 03:00 blowjob behind a petrol station. He pats John's flank encouragingly, barely a brush of pressure against the dampened skin. "Soon," he allows. "Just hold on a bit longer."

John rolls his forehead against his fists and tries to relax his shoulders, cursing again, this time in defeat. He's riding close to the edge, balls drawn up desperately tight, but he can't come from anal stimulation alone. ( _Yet_ , Sherlock soothes himself patiently. John can't do it _yet_. They simply have to find the right combination of timing and stimuli.)

There is still the immediate problem of too much lubricant and not enough grip. Sherlock supposes he could wipe the exposed cucumber flesh clean, but there's an obscene beauty to it just now: all that soft flushed skin, abused and desirous of more, and the vegetable jutting wet from John's body, central and unyielding. It's a perfect contrast, and Sherlock does so hate to upset such careful asymmetry.

Sherlock blows a thin stream of cool air across John's anus and traces the sensitive rim with wet fingertips, the better to absorb the smallest contractions. "John," he says suddenly, and then repeats it when John's moan tapers off, "John. I'm going to tip it into your prostate again, and when I do, I'm going to stroke your cock. But I need you to hold _very still_ when you come, do you understand me? I'd rather not choke or lose my teeth. Repeat that back to me."

John pants in a dizzy fashion, clearly struggling to think past the promise of a touch. His cock twitches with every frantic flex of his buttocks. "I—I'll try to stay still. Don't choke. What the fuck are you going to do?"

Sherlock shifts forward on his knees and gives the tip of the cucumber a light lick. He wrinkles his nose at the taste. "Flavored lubricant next time," he decides aloud, wrapping his long fingers tightly around John's hips. "Or ranch. Mm." He sets his teeth in the rind, breaks it just enough to gain purchase, and tips his chin up to push the other end down, _down_ , the thick head of the gourd already in excellent position to nudge John's abused prostate.

John's breath stutters. He takes exactly two seconds to realize how Sherlock must be manipulating the cucumber, with both hands bruisingly steady on his hips. The air cracks around a guttural shout— _"Jesus fucking Sherlock Christ!!"_ —which is both blasphemous and unlikely—and Sherlock's hand finally curls around that heavy, sodden cock and _pulls_.

(Sherlock does not lose any teeth, thank Horatio, but John tells him later, in no uncertain terms, that there will be no ranch dressing stuffed up his arse, _ever_.)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/17487.html?thread=102702927#t102702927):
> 
>   _Sherlock gently fucking John with a cucumber._
> 
> ...Yeah, I totally wrote this just so I could use the title.


End file.
